Eleanora, Guinevere, and the Dragon
by Aerileigh
Summary: Once upon a time, a red-haired princess fell in love with a devilishly handsome dragon. Years later, he's running the family estate...and she's drawing up divorce papers. Luckily, though, someone is very determined to hear the words "happily ever after."
1. Chapter 1

"What do you mean, you think she's _sleeping_ with him?"

Draco set his scotch glass down on his desk so hard that the crystal thudded resonantly through the dark mahogany.

From across the room, Blaise sighed heavily.

"Look, Draco. It's not like there's anything to be done about it. Don't you think that you ought to—"

Draco glared at him murderously. "Don't tell me what I ought to do, Blaise. You can't possibly understand what this means when I—"

"Da?"

Draco closed his eyes slowly and exhaled. He turned to face the tiny speaker, a girl of about six, who stood barefoot in the door to his study, leaning sleepily against the frame.

"Why are you out of bed, Nora?" he asked sternly, lifting an eyebrow with obvious displeasure.

The child gave him a practiced pout. "Who are you talking to?" she asked, leaning into the room. Her wavy golden hair cascaded over her shoulder as she shyly bent her head around the doorframe. "Oh, hullo, Mr. Zabini," she said with a timid smile.

Blaise smiled. "Hello, Nora."

"_Eleanora,_" Draco called, making the girl jump. "Answer my question."

She hugged herself, ignoring him and playing idly with the long ribbons trimming her white flannel nightgown.

"Eleanora," he repeated. "_Why_ are you out of bed?"

She finally looked up at him with a pair of gigantic eyes. "I couldn't sleep," she said mournfully.

Draco sighed. "You realize I can see right through that, don't you?"

"See through what?" she asked with an knowing smile.

Blaise chuckled as Draco folded his arms. "Someone is her father's daughter," he said, standing. "I think I'll leave you to deal with this little minx."

Draco nodded pensively. "But you'll look into things for me?"

"I'd rather not, Draco. It's probably nothing, and you need to let it go," Blaise began, but Draco silenced him with a look. "Fine. I'll ask some questions."

He made a half bow to Nora, who was still doing her best to look angelic. She dipped him a curtsy, scooping her nightgown up as she dropped her chin.

"Ever the little lady, hm?" Blaise picked up his cloak and wand from a chair by the mantle.

"I don't know any little ladies who run about hours after their nannies have tucked them into bed," Draco said, throwing a frown toward the doorway. "Take care, Blaise."

The sound of the Floo was still whooshing through the fireplace when Draco rounded on his daughter.

"Can't sleep? I've heard better," he said with a smirk, settling himself on a large couch adjacent to the fire. "Come on." He patted the deep brown leather. "Sit."

Nora timidly crossed the floor of her father's study, and then climbed onto the couch next to him.

"I really can't sleep," she whispered, tucking her bare toes inside of her long nightgown as she curled up under his arm.

Draco idly brushed her long, golden hair away from her face. "And why is that?" he asked.

"I can't fall asleep without a story," she said, still whispering. "I have to hear a princess story."

Draco leaned back onto the couch. "I thought Miss Lake told you stories before bed," he said, closing his eyes.

Nora was quiet for a long moment. "I have to hear a Mummy-Princess story," she said slowly. "Miss Lake doesn't know any."

Draco sat upright so quickly that he jostled his daughter out of her comfortable cocoon. "What do you mean," he asked deliberately, "by 'a Mummy-Princess' story?"

Nora looked up at him with wide eyes. "You know," she breathed, as though revealing a great secret, "ones about Mum, when she was a princess?"

Draco coughed. "When your mother was a princess," he repeated slowly.

Nora nodded, watching him expectantly.

"And who was the prince?" he asked, trying to keep the sarcasm that threatened his tone at bay.

Nora studied his face for a long moment. "There isn't a prince," she said righteously. "Princesses don't always need a man around to save their tails."

Draco laughed. "Right. Of course they don't," he said, ruffling her hair. "Especially not according to your mother." His smile faded and he looked down at his small daughter ruefully. "But sometimes, I think, it's nice to have someone around to save you."

"Tell me," Nora insisted, nestling her head against his chest. "Tell me how mum met a prince."

Draco sighed. "Well, I'm afraid it doesn't start with a prince." He paused and bit his lip, not realizing how much his expression was mirrored in the face snuggled into him. "It begins, I'm sorry to say, with a dragon."

Nora twisted her head up in surprise. "A dragon, Da? Really?"

"Yes, really," he said, smoothing her wavy hair over her ear. "This dragon wasn't very kind to the princess, you see."

"He wasn't? But the princess was so beautiful!" Eleanora exclaimed, pulling herself up out of Draco's lap again.

He gently pushed her back so that she was once again cuddled up next to him. "If you keep interrupting my story, I'll never tell it, and then you shall go to bed a very sorry girl, indeed," he admonished.

"Sorry Da," she whispered, pressing her cheek against his chest. "Tell it."

Draco leaned his head back on the sofa and thought for a long moment. "The princess was very beautiful," he said slowly. "In fact, she was one of the most beautiful women that the dragon had ever seen. But the princess kept court in the Land of the Lions, and the dragon was the monarch in the Kingdom of Snakes – and the two were bitter enemies."

"Did they fight in wars?"

"No," Draco chuckled. "But they competed in Quidditch, and you know how people can get about Quidditch."

Nora grinned. "Like Uncle Ron," she giggled.

"You have _no_ idea," Draco said, smiling down at her. "So the dragon lived among the snakes. He was the greatest snake of them all, of course: strong, cunning and powerful. All the other snakes – and even some of the people from the other nearby lands – did whatever he told them to do."

"Was he good at Quidditch?" Eleanora asked eagerly. "Better than Uncle Ron?"

Draco scoffed. "Far, far better than your uncle."

"Wow," Eleanora whispered. "He must've been great."

"Oh, yes, the dragon was great. But he wasn't kind."

Draco paused for a long moment, absently stroking his daughter's hair again.

"Da? The story?" she said, blinking expectantly.

"Right. Er…yes. The princess lived in the Land of the Lions. The people in that land were often extremely obnoxious, and they despised the snakes. And the snakes despised them. They were strange creatures, these Lion dwellers. There was a beast with giant teeth and frizzy hair named Hermy and a spineless goon named Shortfront. Oh, and their leader was a speckle-eyed monster, named Hairy Potface."

Eleanora looked up at him indignantly. "I thought Princess Guinevere was in charge!" she objected.

"Princess—" Draco repeated, puzzled. "Oh, yes. _Guinevere._ Very nice, Gin," he muttered. "No, Princess Guinevere wasn't in charge. She was very young, not much older than you. And she was in love with Potface."

"Was he the prince?" Nora cried eagerly.

Draco snorted. "Hardly."

"Did he save her from the evil dragon, then?"

Draco laid his head back, feeling more than a little self-satisfied. "Oh, no. It was quite the opposite." He pursed his lips and frowned. "Actually, in many ways, Princess Guinevere saved the dragon."

Eleanora sighed proudly. "I knew it," she said with a smirk. "Mum can do _anything_."

Draco checked that she couldn't see his face before allowing himself a very satisfying eye roll.

"That wasn't for awhile still," he said, a bit sullenly. "At this point in the story, Princess Guinevere was still following the Hairy Potface around everywhere. She even wrote him strange love poems and practiced writing "Mrs. Princess Guinevere Potface." One time all of her books fell out of her bag in the hallway and the dragon picked one up and saw that she had written that all over her Potions book."

"The dragon saw it?"

"Yes. He showed his friends and they all mocked her as well."

Nora bit her lip. "Poor Princess. I hate being mocked, too."

Draco pulled her upright and met her eyes. "_Who_ is mocking you?" he demanded.

She sighed. "Sometimes Rose does. But…"

"But what?" Draco asked, his eyes glinting fiercely.

"But…I told her that if she didn't say I was the best flyer of all the cousins, then I'd tell Aunt Hermione what happened to all of her hair cream. And, well," she paused, flustered, then dropped her voice to a whisper. "I told her to get her head out of her…_arse_." She looked up sheepishly.

Draco grinned and tousled the hair that he'd been smoothing for the better part of an hour. "And where did you learn such a naughty thing to say, hm?" he asked, completely failing to hide the amusement in his voice.

Nora, clearly sensing no danger, offered him a hesitant smile. "Uncle Ron and Quidditch again," she said, hunching her shoulders up as she smirked impishly. "So I _knew_ it was bad. And that it would make Rose would shut up."

"Yes," said Draco pompously. "No one mocks a Malfoy."

Eleanora shook her head proudly. "Nope. No one mocks a Malfoy." She yawned so wide that her face nearly split.

"To bed with you, I think," Draco said, arching an eyebrow.

His daughter looked up at him in horror. "You can't leave the story there! The dragon was mocking mum! Did she defeat him? Did she say..._arse_…too?"

Draco met her eyes guiltily. "No. When the dragon mocked Princess Guinevere, she cried."

Her face changed to one of open-mouthed distress. "He _was_ unkind," she said sadly.

"Yes," he said, nodding. "He was downright cruel."

He sighed. "But Princess Guinevere didn't seem to mind too much. The dragon lived in a different kingdom, and she had plenty of weird friends from the Land of the Lions. As she grew older, she grew more and more beautiful. Pretty soon, she didn't need to follow Hairy Potface around anymore, because he started following her around."

Draco stopped and looked down at his daughter, his face deadly serious. "And you know what Hairy Potface did while he followed your mum all around the land?"

"What?" Nora breathed, wide-eyed.

"He _drooled_!" Draco proclaimed, tickling his daughter until she cackled mirthfully in his arms.

"Now, bed," he announced. "And no complaining, or I'm not going to tell you the rest. We've stayed up so late that it's practically _my_bedtime, and your oh-so-independent mother will have my head if she finds out."

Eleanora arched a petite eyebrow, as though ready to challenge his order, but her rebellion was silenced by a much more practiced brow.

Draco scooped up his baby girl, settling her head on his shoulder as he lifted her into his arms. He carried her down the corridor to her room and laid her on her unmade bed, carefully pulling the lacy coverlet up to her chin.

"Goodnight, princess," he whispered, kissing her softly on the forehead.

"Night, Da," she said, sleepiness etched into her words.

"Wait, Da?" she called as Draco carefully closed the door to within an inch of the frame.

"Go to sleep, Eleanora," he said sternly.

"But Da," she insisted, waiting until he stuck his head back into the room. "Am I going back to Mum's tomorrow or the day after?"

Draco's jaw shifted slightly as he answered, "Tomorrow, darling."

He closed the door and returned to his study, where he wound the clock and thoughtfully poured himself another glass of scotch.

Then he resumed his lonely seat in front of the fire, finished the decanter, and blinked back emotions that were far, far too strong for his liking.

* * *

A/N: This story was written for the DG Forum Fic Exchange - Spring 2010. Manifold thanks to Kim (Boogum) for superb beta-reading skills, particularly with such a dialog-heavy piece.

**Harriet's (Dorrmouse) Prompt:**

**Basic outline:** "Daddy, tell me a story..." Ginny and Draco are married and they have a child together. Preferably a girl, but I could live with it being a boy. One night, their child asks to hear the story of how they came to be together. Draco begins the story, starting it from when they were at Hogwarts together. The child likes the story so much he/she asks to hear more each night, so the tale of how Draco and Ginny came to be, begins. Each night either Draco or Ginny tell an installment of their story to their child, realising they were truly meant to be together.

**Must haves:** The story must be told as a bedtime story to their child, and both Draco and Ginny must tell a part of the story separately to their child each night. They must tell it with a fairytale spin on it, you know, the kind of stuff a child wants to hear. (Eg; Ginny as a princess, Draco saving her, that sort of thing.) Their child must be young for obvious reasons. I'd like Draco and Ginny to incorporate their friends into the story, such as Luna being a fairy godmother or something. I want it to be humorous, and tolerable amounts of fluff are allowed.

This portion of Dialogue must be included:  
"So, where did Daddy finish the story off last night?"

"He'd just saved you from a speckle-eyed monster, who was as big as a giant and as stupid as a troll."

Ginny fought back a laugh. "Oh yes, I remember. What else did Daddy say about the monster?"

"It was called Hairy Potface, and liked to drool all over you."

No-no's: No angst. Small children don't like to hear angst! No Smut.

**Rating range:** K-T

**Bonus points:** Blaise in there somewhere, playing a part in the story.  
Ginny describing Pansy as 'The Evil Hag' in the story.  
Ginny catching Draco acting out a portion of the story to their child.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean, 'he's asking questions?'"

Ginny nervously helped herself to another slice of chocolate cake and licked the gooey frosting from her fingers. Once the sweet was gone, she hunched over the counter despondently.

Luna sighed and looked out the window at the cerulean evening sky. "I told you, Ginny. Worrying about what he thinks will only disrupt the Neebees, and I'd hate to see you that way."

"But you said that he popped in and headed straight for Edgecomb's desk, and we both know she writes more gossip in _one_ inter-department owl than the entire staff of Witch Weekly does in a month."

Luna gave Ginny a pitying look. "Those Neebees…" she murmured.

Ginny scrunched her eyebrows worriedly. "I know that can mean a million things. But Draco's used Blaise for his dirty work for years, and if he's sniffing around now, it can't be good."

"And you're worried about Nora?" Luna breathed quietly.

Ginny nodded. "He's been very fair with sharing her right now—the whole separation I've had her at least half the time—but if I give him any reason to take her back, there isn't a soul in the Wizengamot who would side against him."

"The Wizengamot?" Luna asked, again staring at the darkening sky. "So you're still planning to officially divo—"

"Darling!" Ginny interrupted brightly as her daughter walked into the kitchen. "Look who's here! You haven't seen your Aunty Luna in forever."

Nora smiled politely. "Hello, Aunty-Luna-who-is-not-an-Aunty." She climbed up onto a stool and joined the women at the counter. "You're having cake!" she cried.

"Eleanora! What do you mean, 'not an Aunty'? That's not nice." Ginny said, appalled.

Nora shrugged. "Aunts are mums of cousins."

Luna nodded sagely. "And also guests at picnics."

Ginny laughed. "You two ought to make a dictionary together." Both blondes stared at her, puzzled, and she stopped laughing. "Oh, never mind," she said crossly. "You never get my jokes."

Nora shook her head sweetly and smiled. "May I have cake now?"

"I think not, darling," Ginny said, checking her watch. "It's half-past eight."

Nora gave her mum a well-used look of utter sorrow. "You didn't notice that I said _may_ instead of _can_," she wheedled.

Ginny took a deep breath and sighed. "Half a piece."

As Ginny sliced the cake, Luna stood up and walked toward the window. "Is it really half-past?" she said dreamily. "I could have sworn it wasn't quite so late."

"Oh, do you need to go already?" Ginny asked, disappointed.

"I'm afraid so," she said slowly. "You know how the Nargles get. And remember what I said about the Neebees."

She whisked her wand from her pocket and held it above her head. "Goodbye, Nora-not-a-niece."

"Bye," chirped the small girl, shoveling an oversized bite of cake into her mouth as Luna vanished.

"You and Da have more play-dates than me," Nora said, licking frosting from her fingers much like her mother. "I shall have friends over every day when I'm a grown-Witch, too."

Ginny tried to smile, but her stomach clenched at the idea of what a grown-Witch "play-date" might mean where Draco was involved. "Your Da had play-dates? What kind of play-dates?"

Nora shrugged. "I dunno. I didn't play with them."

"Nora, really now. Who did he have over? Were they all—were they boys?" Ginny asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Nora nodded as she polished off the last of the cake, wiping the delicate china clean with her finger. "Yes. Mr. Zabini and Mr. Nott, all the time. And Grandfather, but that's not a play-date." She wrinkled her nose. "That's a _visit_, Da says."

Ginny murmured in agreement and set her daughter's plate in the sink. "Are you ready for bed?" she asked, charming the sink to clean the day's dishes.

"Yes!" Nora exclaimed. "I need to hear the rest of the story. Da didn't finish it!"

Ginny turned from the sink. "Da told you a story? About what?"

Nora shook her head exasperatedly. "Same as you, of _course_. It was about when you were a princess at school. He told me about the part with the mean dragon."

Ginny swallowed. "The mean dragon?"

"Mhm." Nora hopped off the stool. "The one who mocked you and made you cry in the hallway."

"The one who mocked me…" Ginny repeated dazedly.

"And made you cry," Nora finished impatiently. "Come on, I'm all ready for tuck-in."

Ginny trailed after her daughter through the spacious flat and into the girl's bedroom, wondering what on earth Draco had told her daughter—and more importantly, why.

Nora hopped up on the flower-print bedspread and wriggled under the covers. "Okay, I'm ready. Go," she ordered.

"I still can't believe Da told you part of a Princess Guinevere story," Ginny began.

Nora nodded. "He did. You were in it, and so was the dragon. You lived in the Land of the Lions and had a lot of weird friends, like Hermy and Shortfront, and the dragon was in charge of the Kingdom of Snakes, where everyone was unkind."

"And your Da made this up?" Ginny asked. She felt a little put out—the stories had been her idea, and the fact that Draco had managed to insert himself into one more facet of her life was maddening—but she also felt strangely curious.

"Yes," said Nora. "I wanted to hear about how Princess Guinevere was saved by a Prince, because I told Da that Princesses don't need people around to save their tails, and he said sometimes they do."

"Oh he did, did he?" Ginny said as she sat down on the edge of the bed, arching an eyebrow so neatly that it testified to the length of her relationship with her estranged husband. "So, where did Da finish the story off last night?"

"He'd just saved you from a speckle-eyed monster, who was as big as a giant and as stupid as a troll."

Ginny fought back a laugh. "Oh yes, I remember. What else did Da say about the monster?"

"It was called Hairy Potface, and liked to drool all over you."

Ginny stopped laughing suddenly. "I'm not sure that's quite how it went," she said calmly.

Nora sighed. "Okay, he didn't get to the saving part just yet. But he said something about the Princess Guinevere saving the dragon or nearly, and then he said about the drooling. Then he tickled me."

Ginny pursed her lips. "Alright, so the Princess Guinevere lived in the Land of the Lions with her friends. Hairy was the leader of her friends, and the princess liked him very much." She paused to smooth the coverlet before looking back at her daughter's shining eyes. "But by the time the princess was turning into a young lady, she knew that he was not the prince for her."

"How did she know?"

"Well…she just knew, I suppose. He wanted to spend his time defeating evil monsters and wicked wizards, and the princess didn't want to do that all the time. It tired her out."

Nora sighed and snuggled back into her pillow. "Did Hairy Potface defeat the evil dragon?"

Ginny lay down next to her daughter, propping her head up on her arm. "No, he didn't. But certainly not for lack of trying. Hairy and the dragon had several battles, but Hairy couldn't defeat the dragon."

"Because the dragon was way better at Quidditch, right? Even better than Uncle Ron, Da said."

"Oh, really?" Ginny said drily. "I think your Da might have forgotten some of the details. You see, Hairy was an excellent Quidditch player. He was one of the best when he was younger. Once, he and the dragon both played Seeker, and Hairy stole the Snitch right from under the dragon's nose!"

"Whoa," Nora whispered. "I bet the dragon killed him, then."

Feeling a bit smug, Ginny laughed. "Hardly. The dragon left the game and sulked like a little boy."

"Is that when the princess saved him? When he was sad?"

Ginny looked down at her and half wished that her daughter's eyes weren't the exact same difficult-to-read shade of gray as Draco's. She ran her hand over Nora's cheek and bit her lip.

"No. The princess thought the dragon was a stupid, mean old brute who deserved to lose. But…but later she realized that he was just scared. Even though the dragon would never have told a single soul, the princess realized that the dragon was lonely."

"Probably because everyone in his Kingdom was mean. Da said that."

Ginny swallowed, conscious of the conflicting emotions that swept between her heart and her breath. She suddenly remembered a conversation, late at night after a long snogging session in the North Tower, when Draco had first told her how alone he felt in that dungeon dormitory. It had been the first time that he had been completely and honestly vulnerable to her, and she had loved him.

"Yes," she slowly replied. "The people in his kingdom were mean. Even cruel. And they liked people who were cruel, so your—the dragon, that is—decided that he would become the cruelest one of them all.

"He teased the Princess Guinevere, and he had spats with Hairy Potface and the others from the Land of the Lions, and he was even nasty to the people in his own kingdom. He did a great many wicked things. Since the people in his kingdom liked people who were wicked and powerful, that's what he sought to become."

Nora shook her head sadly. "His mum and da needed to tell him to be kind."

Ginny ran her free hand through her hair. "I'll say. His mum and da were a lot different from yours."

"But if the dragon was so rotten," Nora said, rolling over to face Ginny, "why did the princess save him? Was he dying?"

"Noooooo…" Ginny paused to think. "Okay," she began, "one day, when Guinevere was flying around above the Quidditch pitch, she saw that the dragon was flying too, only much higher. The princess had a competitive streak—not unlike someone else I know…" She stopped and gave her daughter a pointed tickle in the ribs.

"Hey!" Nora shrieked indignantly before dissolving into giggles.

"So the Princess Guinevere decided that she'd fly even higher than that mean dragon. So she flew way, way, way up into the sky, and to her surprise, the dragon followed her. He flew just a little higher than her, and so she went a tad higher, and so on.

"Soon they were higher than the Princess Guinevere had ever dared to fly. The dragon tried to tease her, telling her that a little princess not should fly so high. He asked what her precious Hairy Potface would think of her acting with so little regard for her safety."

Ginny felt the ghost of a smile toy at her lips, and she leaned over and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

"For the first time ever," she continued, "Princess Guinevere realized that she wasn't scared of the dragon. So she told him that she could fly as high as she liked, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"At first, the dragon was surprised that the Princess had snapped back at him, because all the other times he'd teased her, she'd been shy, or even cried."

Nora nodded. "The part Da told me, she cried. He said the dragon was very bad, and made her cry."

"Yes," Ginny agreed, "she hadn't been very brave. But this time she was, and she could tell that the dragon was surprised. He flew right up next to her and—"

"Wasn't she scared? Didn't he look like a scary beast with huge teeth?"

Ginny stifled a laugh. "No, darling. Believe it or not, despite being an evil beast, the dragon was very, very handsome, with a very charming smile, and the princess didn't mind in the slightest that he sidled his broomstick right up next to hers."

"Did she smack him for 'venge?" Nora asked, lifting her head from her pillow excitedly. "Did she fight him on broomsticks?"

Ginny blushed. "Er, not exactly. The dragon told the princess that he liked her much better when she was a fiery little minx and not a scaredy-lion. He reached out to brush her hair out of her face—all the flying had pulled it lose, and the wind was whipping it around—and he tucked her hair behind her ear very gently. That's when the princess thought she saw a little spark of goodness in him, underneath all the unkindness."

"Too bad they didn't have a fight on broomsticks. That would have been exciting," Nora said, letting her head fall back onto her pillow with a disappointed thud. "So is that when she saved him?"

"No—but that's when she got the idea into her head that she would try," Ginny said quietly. "So the dragon left her in the sky and flew back to the castle. However, he stopped mocking her in the halls. And for awhile, the princess was happy."

She smoothed the covers over Nora. "I'll have to tell the rest another time. It's getting late, and I'd hate to have to tell your father that you were up past your bedtime."

Nora smirked knowingly.

"What now?" Ginny asked. "I know that look, and it's never good."

"Oh, nothing," Nora said sweetly. "You'll tell me the part about saving the dragon tomorrow?"

Ginny frowned. "Changing the subject, hm? Little minx…I suppose I'll tell you some more this week. For now, lights out."

She flicked her wand at the lamps and they went out, except for a small nightlight that glowed like a tiny fairy in the darkness. "Sleep well, darling," she whispered, kissing her little girl on the cheek. "I love you."

"Love you too, Mum."

Ginny walked into the living room of the ridiculously large flat that Draco had insisted on buying for her. She collapsed on the couch and lay there for a long moment, letting old memories flicked through her mind.

Slowly, she got up and pulled a thin black book from the shelves on the opposite wall, then sat back down. She flipped open the journal to an earmarked page and read:

_September 23, 1996_

_Finally had the guts to give Malfoy the what-for today. He must come up with insults while he goes to sleep at night. Maybe I'll do the same thing, since he likes it so much when I snap at him._

_Not that I care about him liking me._

_He touched my hair, too, and his hand made my face tingle the way holding hands with Michael used to. Was weird. I blame the wind._

_Can't believe I flew that high._

_Can't believe I'm writing a diary entry about __Malfoy__._

She flipped the page and read the next entry, and the one after that, and after that, until she'd managed to relive her entire fifth year.

Somewhere around Christmas, tears began to roll down her cheeks—and they didn't stop until mid-May.

* * *

A/N: A heartfelt thanks to all the reviews. You make me smile. :)


	3. Chapter 3

"Da," came a small voice, not far from Draco's elbow, "I promise I shall be very, very, _exceedingly_ well-behaved today if you'll take me on a picnic for tea."

Draco continued to pen the letter he was writing.

"As your father," he said without looking up, "I promise that if you are anything _other_ than 'very, very, exceedingly well-behaved' today or at any other time, you shall be very, very, exceedingly sorry."

Nora looked up and sighed sadly. "I shall never go on a picnic," she said despondently.

Draco suppressed a laugh and lifted his little girl up to sit on his desk. She swung her legs as he signed his name with just the barest hint of a flourish.

"Now, darling," he said, rolling the parchment into a tidy scroll, "where did you get this little dramatic streak, mm?"

Nora wriggled her nose. "Probably from Mum and you," she decided.

"Now Mum I can understand. But me? When am I dramatic?" he asked, smiling as he wrapped a string around the scroll. His daughter's interpretation of the world around her was not often correct, but very often amusing.

"You're dramatic when I've been naughty," she said with a tiny, knowing smirk.

Draco looked up from the seal wax he was melting. "Dramatic when you've been...naughty?" he repeated, confused.

Nora swung her legs mightily, crashing her stockinged heels back into his desk with a thud.

"Watch it, Elea—" Draco said sharply, then paused. He had to give her credit; she was sharp for her age. "Ah. I see what you mean, you little terror."

She grinned charmingly.

"May I please fix the letter to Orion?" she begged, hopping off the desk and running toward the owl's gilded stand in the corner of the study.

"I don't know if—" Draco began, but Nora interrupted him.

"You didn't even notice that I said 'may,'" she said resentfully.

Draco lifted his eyebrow a fraction of an inch, clearly displeased.

"Who's to say I didn't notice, hm? But _you_ seem to not have noticed that I was speaking, and I'm afraid that means the pleasure of attaching this piece of paper to that bird's leg is all mine," he said dryly.

Ignoring her sigh of deep disappointment, he tied the scroll to the owl's leg with a neat knot, acutely aware that Nora leaned against the wall, furrowing her forehead in defeat. He knew it was better she fret for a moment than be spoilt for life, but that didn't make saying 'no' any easier.

"Would you like to open the window, darling?" he asked, flashing a forgiving smile.

She grinned, then eagerly unlatched the sash, swung the diamond-paned window out, and peered out of the high, third-story window.

"Da, isn't it such a lovely day?" she said happily, resting her chin on her hands, which she'd propped on the sill.

Draco crooned a few words to the owl before releasing it from the window. As they watched it flap up and over the green forest that surrounded the grounds, he answered, "Yes, it is a very lovely day. Perfect for a picnic, don't you think?"

She craned her neck to glance up at him, as though to make sure he was serious, before she lit up with a grin. "Really, Da?" she shrieked. "You're going to be done with letters for the day?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Right. Because all I do all day is write letters."

She flew at him, wrapping her arms around his leg in a gleeful, shrieking hug.

"If you don't calm down, I'm going to decide that you're not mature enough for a picnic," he threatened quietly, and Nora instantly ceased her high-pitched cheers. "I only attend picnics with ladies, you know," he added.

She nodded and smoothed her dress. "I suppose I shall need to find my shoes," she said regally.

Draco snapped his fingers, and a house elf appeared at his side. "Lackey, please fetch Miss Eleanora's shoes, and then have the kitchen staff prepare us a picnic basket. We'll be having tea on the lawn."

The elf bowed low and disappeared with a pop. Nora, still giddy with excitement, was twirling in front of the window, making her sundress fluff out like a flower petal as she spun.

Draco decided that an afternoon picnic meant that he could shed the formal attire he'd worn all day—well, all month. Since Ginny had moved out, and since Nora spent half her time with her mother, Draco found that he was spending all his time occupied with matters of business. Better to turn a profit than to let his wife's decisions wear him thin.

And if he worked late into the evening, he didn't have to think about what Ginny might be doing. Or who she did it with.

Nora sighed wistfully, bringing him back to the present. "I'm going to have lots of picnics in my life," she said.

"Oh?" Draco said, carefully hanging his business robes on a hook. "How do you know that?"

She plopped down on the sofa in front of the fireplace and curled her legs up underneath her small frame. "Oh, I'm going to have a lot of romantic moments with boys, and romantic boys always have picnics," she said airily.

Draco froze. He stopped rolling up the sleeves of his oxford and swiveled to look at his baby girl, who was twirling a long lock of blonde hair around her smallest finger.

"And how," he asked icily, "did we just go from larking about, screeching, to talking about romantic moments with _boys_?"

Nora let go of her hair. "Is that bad?" she asked in a small voice.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You, Eleanora, are not allowed to have any romantic moments with boys for at least the next ten years. Possibly—probably—twenty years. And I do not want to hear another word about it until then," he said, his tone dead calm. "Is that quite clear?"

"Yes, Da," she said quietly. "Not another word."

Lackey chose that moment to pop back into the study bearing a small pair of shoes and a loaded picnic basket. "Would Master like Lackey to carry the basket?" he asked, bowing low despite his burden.

"No, I think I can manage," Draco said, dismissing the elf.

He picked up the pair of shoes and knelt in front of his daughter, who was worrying her lip. He sighed and lifted her right foot and slipped it into the pretty little sandal, then kissed her cheek.

"You know I love you more than anything in the whole world, don't you?" he said gently.

She nodded.

"And I didn't mean to scare you, darling. I just want to keep you safe. You're my princess, not some silly boy's. Right?" he asked, cinching the buckle of the other sandal so that it fit snugly on her foot.

Nora gave him a tiny smile. "Right," she whispered. "Your princess."

He patted her foot and stood up, making final adjustments to his sleeves. Nora was still slumped against the sofa, and he felt a little twist in his chest. He'd managed to scare her, and he could never do that without feeling a tinge of regret.

But Draco had little estimation for regret, so he put those feelings aside, crossed his arms, and looked down at his daughter archly.

"Now, I command you to laugh, for we are going to have a picnic, which is the last place a frown should be seen," he declared.

Nora gave him a slightly bigger smile.

"What's this? No laugh?" he wondered aloud. "How dare you disobey your father! Laugh!" he ordered, then pounced, tickling her until she squealed with laughter.

A quarter of an hour later, the two spread out a large quilt under a tree not too far from the house. Nora lay down, spread-eagled on the blanket, and squinted up at the bright sky.

Next to her, Draco opened the picnic basket and set out a loaf of crusty bread, a cluster of grapes, cubed cheese, and a bottle of wine. He stared at the wine for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief and placing it back in the basket.

"House elves," he muttered.

He slipped a piece of cheese into his mouth before he lay back like his daughter, and thoughtfully watched the leaves overhead wave in the breeze.

She pointed up at the afternoon sky. "There, Da! Doesn't that cloud look like a dragon?"

She'd learned this game from her mother, and he'd never understood it—and not for lack of trying. Cloud-gazing made Ginny feel free and romantic, and that usually ended well for him.

He squinted. "Which one?" he asked.

"That one over there, just poking out from behind that tall Christmas tree."

"I suppose it does," Draco said, scrunching his nose. It looked more like a chunk of white candy-floss to him. "And that's a spruce."

"Da, can you tell me more about Princess Guinevere?" Nora asked, rolling onto her stomach and selecting a fat, purple grape from the bunch.

Draco watched her savor the juicy bite before he answered. "Didn't your mum tell you enough about her?" he inquired, picking up another piece of cheese.

"Well, a little," Nora said, using the back of her wrist to catch the grape juice that dribbled down her chin. "She told me about when the Princess flew on her broomstick, high, high up—probably higher than that dragon cloud, I bet—and she decided that she was going to save the dragon."

Draco felt his heart stop for half a second, and he frowned to himself. "And then what did she tell you?"

Nora shrugged. "Nothing, really. After that, she just read fairy stories to me for bedtime."

"All week?" Draco probed. "She only told you that one Princess Guinevere story?"

"Yes, she said the Princess stories wore her out," Nora said, pulling the crust off a thick slice of bread. "But they don't wear you out, do they?" she asked hopefully.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and tucked his arm behind his head, carefully ticking off his options as he processed this information. Clearly, Ginny did not have things as together as she had pretended when she'd dropped Nora off that morning. He licked his lip absently, remembering that day in the sky above the pitch and wondering why his wife couldn't tell more of the story.

"Da? Helloooooooo?" Nora exclaimed, cheekily waving her hand in front of his face. "Will you tell me more of the story?

Draco rolled onto his stomach and looked at her. She had his coloring, but her features were undoubtedly Ginny's; they were softer, and her nose was more of a button than an angle. He liked that.

"Sure, love," he said lazily. "I'll tell you more. Where did your mum leave off?"

"Right where I said. She was flying high up, higher than the dragon. And he brushed her hair back, and she knew he couldn't be all bad. He was part good. Oh, and he was a very good looking dragon," she said knowingly.

Draco smirked at the sky. She might call him all sorts of names, and "need space" and even throw her shoes at him, but Ginny still admitted that he was handsome. Perhaps, he decided for the hundredth time, not all hope was gone.

Nora chattered on. "Also, Da, Mum says you were wrong about Quidditch. She said that Hairy Potface was way better at Quidditch than the dragon, and that this one time, they were both playing sSeeker and the dragon was so silly that Hairy Potface snatched it—"

"And that's quite enough of that," Draco cut in smoothly. If Harry was Ginny's mystery man, he'd have him killed. Better to spend his life in Azkaban than face_ that_. "That's not really part of the story, is it?"

She shook her head. "Okay. Start where the princess saves the dragon."

"Where the princess saves the dragon…" he pondered aloud. "Well, once upon a time, Princess Guinevere was feeling lonely. Her companions in the Land of Lions were frequently occupied with being as obnoxious as they could possibly be, and her dearest friends, the Identical Wheezing Jesters, had moved away from the Land a few years before.

"So she was lonely, and she started to spend a great deal of time sitting along the Lake of Shining Waters, which was nearby."

Nora stretched her arms above her head. "Was it a lake like our lake?"

"It wasn't terribly different, I suppose."

Draco propped his head up and looked out over the lake that graced the Malfoy estate. That particular lake had been the backdrop for a much, much later part of the story—and one he was_ not_ about to share with his six-year-old.

"Anyway," he said, interrupting his own reverie, "she would sit by the Lake of Shining Waters in the afternoons, making wishes."

"Wishes?" Nora asked, catching her breath. "Did they come true?"

Draco nodded sagely. "Some of them did." He picked up a grape. "So the princess made many wishes. She also wrote stories down in a little book, and other things like that," he said with a wave. "But while everyone from the Land of the Lions forgot that she did this, a knave from the Land of Snakes noticed."

"Ooooh," Nora said, her eyes shining with the thrill of danger. "Did he try to_ get_ her?"

Draco laughed. "Yes, but not in the way you might think," he said, remembering Blaise's pathetic attempts to hit on Ginny. Even now, his friend's pick-up lines only worked when the girls were drunk; if Zabini wasn't obscenely good-looking, he'd be out of luck.

"The knave knew the dragon, since they both lived in the Land of Snakes, and sometimes the two would talk. Once, the knave mentioned to the dragon that it seemed odd that the Princess would spend so much time alone out by the Lake of Shining waters. However, every time he tried to go talk to her, she would ignore him."

"That wasn't very nice of her, was it?" chimed Nora.

"Well, you have to remember that he was from the Land of the Snakes. He wasn't known for being very nice, either."

Nora nodded. "Still. The princess should have been beneviolent."

"Benevolent," Draco corrected. "And I suppose she was a little rude to him. He did try awfully hard." He smirked, remembering Blaise's rants about how stuck-up the latest object of his fantasies was. "Maybe beneviolent is the right word.

"However, the dragon didn't need the knave to tell him about Guinevere's strange habit of sitting alone by the lake, scribbling in her journal. He knew because he watched her carefully.

"You see, the dragon was also more and more lonely. His earliest friends were all preoccupied with becoming rich and powerful, and the dragon was starting to figure out that wealth and power are not the best of friends. He felt like no one understood him."

"That's how Princess Guinevere felt, too?" Nora asked, curling up next to him so that she could rest her golden head on his shoulder.

"I suppose. But not in the same way." Draco paused for a moment, remembering the way Ginny sat at the edge of the lake, her head bowed over her journal so that her fire-red locks shaded her face. When the sun went down, it was a captivating view.

He sighed.

"I can see why these stories wear your mum out," he said wearily. "They tire me, too."

Nora sat up. "Nooooo, Da! Don't stop there. Please!"

"Alright, but you have to come here," he said, pulling her back down to rest against his chest. "Where was I?"

"The princess and the dragon were very alone," she recited.

"Yes. One day the dragon found the princess in the deep, dark lands—they were underground, you see—and she was crying. Even though it was frowned upon for dragons to speak to princesses, he felt compelled to ask her why she was so sad.

"So the princess told the dragon her troubles. She didn't think about it, or wonder if he would tease her. She was too upset."

Draco paused. He needed to think through this part very, very carefully. Nora was quiet, but she watched him expectantly.

"She cried because she had finally allowed Hairy Potface to be her prince," Draco said, clenching his jaw, "and he had—he had not treated her like a princess."

Nora's eyes opened wide. "What did he do?"

Draco absently wrapped his arm around her. "That…that doesn't matter. He was more unkind to her on that day than the dragon had been all along, and he broke her heart into a million tiny pieces.

"So the dragon's heart was already a little broken, from the loneliness, and when he saw how sad and alone she was, it began to break even more. And he went to her, wrapped his arms around her and gave her a—a very big hug.

"But he was still a dragon, and she was still a princess. So he left her there, after a moment, and they both pretended like it hadn't happened. She ignored him when they saw each other, and he still teased her when the other monsters from the Land of the Snakes were about. Of course, the dragon thought a great deal about all the ways he could destroy Hairy Potface. But they mostly ignored each other.

"That is, until the fairy godmother, who was very good at noticing the strangest things, decided to help the princess save the dragon, and she—"

"Draco!" called a figure from across the lawn. "Malfoy, is that you?"

Draco sat up quickly. "Blaise? What is it?"

Blaise rushed across the grass, halting at the edge of the blanket. "Draco, I found something—about, ah…" he glanced at Nora. "Well, about our conversation last week. And you're not going to like it, mate."

Draco looked down at Nora, who was looking up at Blaise with wide-eyes, and snapped his fingers. An elf appeared, and he swiftly commanded it to deliver the remains of the picnic to the kitchen and Miss Eleanora to her nursery.

"I'll have to finish it later, darling," he said, kissing the top of her head before dispatching her to the house elf.

"Now," he said, cool fury etched across his face, "who is he, and what's the easiest way to kill him?"

* * *

**A/N:** No, Draco has not read _Anne of Green Gables_. But the author has, and the Lake of Shining Waters is my homage to that dearly beloved story, also about a red-head who came to be loved by the very boy who mocked her in school.

And my apologies for the late update, especially when I promised a faster one to many of you. This silly site and its problems. :(


	4. Chapter 4

"Who is it?"

Ginny peered through the small peep-hole of the door to her flat. As soon as she saw the platinum-blond hair glinting in the light of the hall, her skin grew warm and her blood ran cold.

"Your husband," he drawled. "And we need to have a little chat."

Even though he couldn't see her, she folded her arms. "Is that so, _darling_? What about that 'little chat' we had when I collected Nora last week? That got rather nasty and didn't solve a single thing," she cried, then attempted to collect herself, awkwardly crossing her arms as she glared at the solid oak. "I still need my space, Draco."

"Your space?" he scoffed. "Right. Because _that's _what this is all about. Space."

"Yes, Draco. My space. Mine."

She peeked through again. He was leaning against the doorframe, propping his head against his arm.

"I'm not having this conversation through a door, Ginevra. You will let me in."

She crowed with sarcastic laughter. "Oh, I will, will I? Because I do everything you say. Everything. I've followed your every whim and wish since I was seventeen, Draco! For eight years, I've—"

"If you don't open this door in the next ten seconds, I will give you all the space you've ever wanted."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"However," he added coolly, "I will keep Eleanora as far away from that space as I possibly can."

Ginny kicked the door wildly, forgetting that she was barefoot. She hissed in pain as her toe connected with the solid wood.

"Ten. Nine..." He counted down slowly, keeping his voice steady.

Ginny swung the door open before he reached two, and the pair stared stonily at each other, arms folded.

Draco made the first move, stepping into the flat with a critical eye. "This is lovely," he observed casually.

"Don't try to make nice with me, Draco. You can't threaten me like that and then compliment me on the flat that you bought."

He shrugged. "Very well. I'll be direct." He rounded on her, and in two steps he had her back against the wall.

"Draco," she started, but he cut her off.

"Is there another man?" he demanded, keeping his voice steady, but Ginny didn't need to hear the unbridled fury in his pitch. She could see it in his eyes. She mustered her confidence and met his gaze.

"I'm not having this conversation while you're pinning me to the wall," she said quietly.

Every muscle in his body went tense, and Ginny inwardly cringed. Then, just as suddenly, he dropped his arms limply to his sides.

"Does that mean Blaise is right?" he asked dully. "You're divorcing me because there's someone else?"

Ginny sank down onto a nearby couch and put her head in her hands. "No, Draco. There isn't another man. I was going to divorce you because—because I feel like I missed something. I was just eighteen when we got the flat in London, fresh out of Hogwarts and barely of age, and only twenty when I had Nora. I…I feel like I missed my life. I'm going to be twenty-seven soon, and I can't remember the last time I had a night out on the town with the girls, or got really drunk, or flirted."

He looked at her sharply. "Flirted?"

"Yes, Draco," she said tiredly. "Flirt_ed_. I miss flirting."

He sat on a chair opposite her and brushed his hair back. "I'm an excellent flirt," he said crossly. "Far better than the rubbish you'd meet in a bar."

Her face crumpled. "But you don't flirt with me, Draco. You just fight with me," she said, prickling tears welling up in her eyes. "You fight with me, and I feel so very alone."

"But you don't tell me anything anymore. How can I flirt with a woman who gives me one-word answers to everything? You think _you_ feel alone?"

Suddenly, he remembered a girl sitting on the edge of the Lake of Shining Waters, frantically pouring out her heart on paper as the sun caught her hair and set it aflame in shades of brilliant red.

"Gin," he said slowly, "I don't want you to feel unhappy. But…I also want you in my life." He reached over and took her hands in his. "Please, love. Don't take those papers to the Ministry. Blaise told me you had them drawn up, and I thought…well. I thought the worst."

She looked at him, the first tears inching down her cheeks. She recalled curling up with a boy in a Hogwarts tower, listening with all of her heart as he bared his soul, with all of its pain and fear, and laid it at her feet.

"And Eleanora, Gin. She doesn't understand this. She…" he floundered. "She deserves a happy ending to her little fairy tale," he finished lamely.

Ginny smiled through her tears. "She told me you were telling her 'Mummy-Princess' stories."

Draco groaned. "Hardly. They were more like 'Let's Remember Painful Moments' stories."

"After I told her about that time on the brooms, I stayed up almost all night reading my journal and crying," she admitted. "I had so much hope then. I don't know when I lost it."

He studied her face seriously. "Gin," he said, moving over to sit next to her, "I will do everything in my power to help you find it. Just—please—come home."

She pulled her hands from his and rubbed her palms into her eyes. "I don't know, Draco. What if we start fighting again? I still don't want to have another baby, and—"

"Shh," he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "We don't need to have any more children. Though, you have to admit that we do make awfully nice ones."

Ginny laughed through her tears. "And making them is awfully nice, too."

"Ah, yes," he said smugly. "In that department, I can assure you that you are in much better hands than all those girls running about getting drunk and flirting wildly."

She nodded, and he cupped her cheeks in his hands.

"We could take a year and just travel. We're absurdly wealthy, Nora isn't in school, and you've always enjoyed Italy. We can go wherever you want—I happen to know a really great place to get drunk in Rio."

Ginny sniffled. "I suppose so," she said. "Do you think I could get a job, too?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I shall never understand that need, but yes. Fine. You can get a job."

"And you'll flirt with me?" she asked timidly.

Draco smirked. "Darling, the things I'm going to do with you are going to make make-up sex look like a first kiss."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," she said crossly. "Will you flirt with me?"

He slid his hands back around her head and drew her close, almost closing the distance between them. "Ginevra Malfoy, I vow to flirt with you most shamelessly. But first," he whispered, locking his gaze on hers, "first, I am going to kiss you."

With that, he slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her toward him, gently brushing his lips against hers for a long moment before he slowly and deliberately parted her lips, making her heart thrum with electricity. His fingernails brushed along the nape of her neck as he pushed her back into the soft couch, shooting shivers down her spine.

She responded carefully, as though the kiss was a fragile thing, and wound her arms up over his shoulders, smoothing one through his silky hair and tightly gripping the collar of his shirt with the other. He responded in kind, pressing her back into the cushions as he deepened the kiss. She kissed him back, slipping her tongue into his mouth. His kisses were wonderfully, unbelievably sweet.

She couldn't help but sigh when he broke the kiss, and she wrapped her arms around him, trapping him against her.

"We're going to be okay, Draco?" she breathed worriedly.

He smoothed her hair back confidently. "Yes, Princess. We're going to be okay."

**One Month Later**

"Da, tell me again about how the fairy godmother tricked the dragon and the princess into falling in love!"

Draco groaned. "Eleanora, it's really time for you to be asleep, and if you're crabby tomorrow the beach won't be nearly as fun."

"I promise I won't be crabby," she insisted. "Please? Just that one part?"

He sighed and lay down on the bed next to her. He ran a finger down her nose and inspected it playfully. "Ah, that's not dust. Those are freckles. I think that Fiji isn't the best place for your mum to forget a sun-block charm."

She giggled. "I like the freckles. I look more like Mum."

"And I do like her freckles," he said seriously.

She gazed at him expectantly, and he sighed.

"Fine, I'll tell the story. Let's see…the fairy godmother was a very strange sort of fairy. Rather than appearing in a flash of light with a gossamer gown, she wandered about with bare feet and radish earrings."

"Last time you said they were eggplant earrings," Nora interrupted.

"She has both, I'm sure." Draco waved dismissively. "The fairy godmother saw that both Princess Guinevere and the dragon were very lonely, you see, and so she did a little magic.

"She managed to convince both of them to make a long trek, halfway around the Lake of Shining Waters. At the time, neither the princess nor the dragon realized that they would be going to meet the other—the fairy godmother was a tricky fairy."

"Da, was she from the Land of Lions or the Kingdom of Snakes?" Nora interrupted.

Draco frowned. "She was from the Heights of the Wise Eagles," he invented. "And she was very smart, unless she was off in fairy land. She had a long conversation with the rogue knave one day, after he tried to "get her," as you so nicely put it, and he let it slip that the dragon liked to watch the princess. And the princess told the fairy godmother directly about how the dragon had been so kind after Hairy Potface was so cruel to her.

"So the princess and the dragon ran into each other on the far side of the Lake of Shining Waters. At first, they didn't know what to do. They both started talking at the same time, and then they both stopped. The princess got very flustered, turned quite red, and made a face."

Draco paused to pull a wide-eyed face, and he opened and shut his mouth several times, like a fish.

"Are you acting me out, now?" said Ginny from the doorway, shaking her head. "Draco Malfoy, I'm ashamed. Every time you tell this story, it gets further from the truth."

Draco scoffed and winked. "Who said anything about you? This story is about Princess Guinevere."

"Yeah, Mum, it's a bedtime story," Nora said. She patted the bed. "Come sit."

Ginny sat down by Draco, who kissed her on the forehead before continuing his tale.

"So the princess and the dragon looked awkwardly at each other for a long time, and then finally the dragon got up the nerve to ask the princess about her journal."

"And the princess wouldn't tell him," Ginny chimed in. "She informed him very proudly that he was a rude git who didn't deserve to know."

"But the dragon was very handsome, and very charming, and once he stopped mocking and teasing the princess, it wasn't very hard to get her to fall in love with him. She told him about the stories and poems in the journals soon enough," Draco paused, meeting his wife's eyes. "And then, out by the lake, the princess and the dragon kissed for the first time."

"And they got married and lived happily ever after," Nora said with a satisfied sigh.

"Yes, of course they did," Draco said. "You wouldn't expect anything less of a dragon and a princess, would you?"

Nora shook her head, but Ginny smirked mischievously.

"Ah, but you forgot about the evil hag," she said, her eyes glinting as she turned to Nora.

"The evil hag?" the small girl repeated.

"Oh, yes. The evil hag used to follow the dragon around, latched onto him at the hip, and calling him 'Drakey-darling' all the live-long day. It was practically sick-making. She had a great deal of trouble understanding that 'happily ever after' meant that she needed to find another snake to latch onto."

Nora frowned. "I think she should end up with the knave."

Draco and Ginny burst out laughing.

"I do not think that would be a happy ending for either of them," Ginny said through a giggle. "I still think the knave should end up with the fairy godmother, but…well. Not all the stories have ended yet, hm?"

Eleanora stretched her arms over her head and yawned. "I think we should have a story about Princess Eleanora sometime," she said. "I bet she'd know what to do about the knave and the fairy godmother."

Draco smiled and smoothed her hair back. "Sweet dreams, darling."

"Goodnight, love," Ginny whispered, pulling up the covers and kissing her daughter's cheek.

"Are you sure you don't want a second child?" Draco whispered dryly as they shut her door. "If we had a boy, you could be a mermaid and I could be a pirate."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Or you can be cowboy and I can be the native."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Or I can be the Grecian god and you can be the nymph."

"You arrogant little—" she said, swatting him.

"Oh, I know. I can be the sultan and you can be my latest trophy," he said smugly.

"Draco Malfoy!" she hissed indignantly. "This story-telling business has gone to your head."

"Maybe so," he said, pretending to consider this thoughtfully. "But it'll be much more fun if it goes to yours, too."

With a wicked smirk, he swept her up into his arms. "Shall we go make up a few more?"

**The End**

* * *

A/N: Yay for happy endings. :)

I owe a great deal to my beta reader, Kim (Boogum) for all her splendid help, especially with so much dialog and an OC child character, to boot. Thanks to Harriet for the lovely prompt; I hope you enjoyed it despite my addition of a rather angsty twist. Most of all, thank you to the writing community at The DG Forum. You people are wonderful.

And dear reader, thank YOU for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it; please drop me a review if you're so inclined. It'll be received with much grinning - and since we live in the era of the smart phone, you could be literally seconds away from making me smile. How's that for motivation/begging? :)

Oh, and stay tuned. I have not one, but _two_ lovely stories from past exchanges ready to post. One involves Quidditch, the other a kitten, and both involve a very flummoxed Draco. ;)


End file.
